


Into the Light of the Dark Black Night

by Johnlocked221b



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Could be platonic, Fix-It, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Oswald, M/M, Nygmobblepot is implied vaguely, Post 03x14, gobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked221b/pseuds/Johnlocked221b
Summary: “What happened to you?”Oswald couldn’t help but give him a weak smile. “Someone pushed me into the harbor again, would you believe it? Now let me in before I bleed to death on your doorstep. Wouldn’t that be quite the mess?”Fix-it fic to ease our broken hearts after the events of 03x14. Basically Oswald goes to Jim for comfort.Title comes from the song Blackbird by The Beatles





	

Cold.

  
He was so cold. Shivering, the mayor of Gotham waddled through the darkened hall of an inner-city apartment building.

  
“225…225…” He muttered to himself, teeth clacking. Oh dear, he was making quite the mess leaving a trail of water and blood behind him on the floor. He felt woozy…odd and dizzy as he reached the door he was looking for. “Ahh 225…please be home..”

  
He knocked as loud as he could and then waited. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the door swung open.

  
“Penguin?”

  
“ _Jim_ …oh thank goodness…”

  
Jim took in the sight of him; wet and pale and bleeding. “What happened to you?”

  
Oswald couldn’t help but give him a weak smile. “Someone pushed me into the harbor again, would you believe it? Now let me in before I bleed to death on your doorstep. Wouldn’t that be quite the mess?”

  
Dumbly, Jim stepped to the side, letting him in. He looked around for witnesses in the hall before shutting the door.

  
“Someone pushed you into the harbor? Who?”

  
Oswald waved it off. “No one…I mean, I didn’t see their face. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of it. D-do you have a towel?”

  
Jim nodded and went to his little closet. Nothing. “Well…it won’t be clean.”

  
“It doesn’t matter. Just as long as it’s dry.”

  
Jim retrieved the towel from the bathroom door and handed it to Oswald, who wrapped himself tight in its warmth. He looked down at Oswald's wound and grimaced. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  
“No!” Oswald shouted and then gave a small, polite smile. “It would be messy…and expensive. Surely you can dig out a bullet, yes?”

  
Jim eyed him but didn’t mention that Oswald had warehouses full of money. He could afford a few stitches. “Yeah…come into the bathroom.”

  
Oswald followed him and sat down on the toilet seat when Jim gestured to it. “Take off your shirts.”

  
Oswald’s face flushed pink, looking scandalized. “My _my_ , old friend. If that’s what you wanted, you could have asked poli-“

  
Jim shot him a look as he dug through the medicine cabinet for supplies. Oswald pinched his mouth shut and nodded. Not the right time.

  
He shivered as he dropped the towel and began making an attempt at removing his layers, all soaked and clinging to his body. It was actually quite the struggle that had Jim asking if he wanted him to cut them.

 

Oswald sighed and dropped his arms, too weak and exhausted to do much of anything. “May as well…this suit is ruined anyhow.”

  
Jim started on the sleeves, carefully cutting him out of his shirts one by one. Once Oswald was properly shirtless, he actually felt a bit better; not as heavy. Jim knelt in front of him and eyed the wound. “This bullet came from the front…at close range. Are you sure you didn’t see who shot you?”

  
Oswald only shook his head, biting slightly at his lower lip. Jim had a strong feeling that he was lying but he didn’t press. If Oswald didn’t want to tell then there would be no getting it out of him. Stubbornness was his defining trait.

  
Jim set to work on removing the bullet, controlling the bleeding, preventing infection, and stitching him up, finishing the job with a bandage wrap around his torso. That’s when he noticed that Oswald was shivering. He looked absolutely drained.

  
“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

  
Oswald shook his head. If Ed and his dim-witted cronies would be going anywhere, it would be back to his father’s mansion. Where it mattered, he was homeless.

  
Jim sighed deeply and stood up. “Alright, well…I’ll get you some dry clothes and I’ll put what’s left of these in the drier.”

  
Oswald swallowed hard. “Jim, I don’t know how to thank you…I-”

  
“Stop.” Jim held up his hand. “No favors.”

  
Oswald’s eyes watered as he smiled and nodded. “Okay…friend.”

  
Jim sighed again and walked out. “Just leave your clothes outside the door.”

  
Oswald blinked and gave a short nod. “I will. Thank you.”

  
While Oswald was getting undressed, Jim began quickly doing a cleanup job. He straightened out his bed, placed a pillow and a blanket on the sofa, and a pair of old sweatpants and a faded GCPD Police Academy t-shirt outside of the door. He gathered the soaking clothes and threw them into the drier and was just beginning to fluff the pillows when Oswald walked out.

  
Jim’s clothes swamped him. He looked very small and fragile and…a word that Jim really should not have been thinking about the Penguin whatsoever.

  
He was _cute_.

  
Jim caught himself smiling and fixed that. “Better?”

  
“Oh yes, Jim, thank you. These are very comfortable.” Oswald rubbed his small arms and looked around before gesturing toward the sofa. “Is that for me?”

  
Jim blinked. “Oh…no. I was going to sleep here.”

  
Oswald smiled. “It would be rude of me to push you from your own bed.”

  
Jim shrugged. “I sleep here most nights anyway. It’s fine.”

  
Oswald glanced over at the bed and thought on it. “Well…if you insist.” He was far too tired to argue anyway.

  
As Oswald occupied the bed and crawled into the layers of warm blankets with a deep and comfortable sigh, Jim turned out the lights and lay down on the sofa.

  
For a while, both men stared at the ceiling in the dark, breathing and listening to the other breath.

  
“Jim?”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“I’m still cold.”

  
Jim’s brows furrowed. “Do you want my blanket?”

  
Silence.

  
“Oswald?”

  
“No.”

  
More silence.

  
“Forget it.”

  
Jim felt his heart ache at the resigned disappointment in the Penguin’s voice and found himself rising from the uncomfortable lumpiness of the sofa and padding over to crawl into bed beside a notorious murderer.

  
He didn’t just lay beside him either. Jim curled around the smaller man, careful of his wound as he wrapped an arm around his middle and pressed himself flush against his back.

  
“Jim?” Oswald’s voice sounded aghast.

  
“Go to sleep Oswald.”

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies if Jim or Oswald seem rather OOC. My excuse is that they are very tired and so am I.


End file.
